


Records

by womanfromblackwater



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Jack and his embarrassing parents, family cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanfromblackwater/pseuds/womanfromblackwater
Summary: Between leaving the Yukon and arriving in Strawberry, the Marstons stop to visit a bit of family history
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Records

Jack couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a church. He read from his Bible often enough, and sometimes his mama would ask him to read it to her, but they never went to services. So he’d been surprised when she had insisted on stopping off in this small town in the middle of nowhere and brought them into the church. He’d been even more surprised when she’d asked to see the parish record book. 

He looked to his father for some kind of explanation, but only got a confused shrug as Abigail ran her finger down a line of dates, finally stopping with a triumphant smile. 

“Look, I knew it was right here!”

He followed her finger to the neatly written line of text, reading aloud.

“John Marston, junior. 1895. Father… wait, that isn’t Pa’s writing!” 

John glanced nervously around the empty chapel while Abigail shushed the boy. 

“No, but your Uncle Hosea thought that even if your pa weren’t ready right then, he’d want his mark there one day.”

“Uncle Hosea forged a church document?”

Now both parents shushed the boy. 

“Trust me, son, your Uncle Hosea forged far worse than a christening book.”

Trying to draw the conversation back to it’s sentimental point, Abigail grabbed Jack’s arm and pointed again. 

“I practised for weeks to be able to sign for myself. Look right there, didn’t it come good?”

Jack’s brow furrowed. 

“Wasn’t your name Roberts then? You wrote ‘Abigail Marston.’”

“Well, we didn’t need the preacher knowing you was born out of wedlock.”

“So my uncle signed as my father, you wrote a name that weren’t yours, and my name is written as something ain’t nobody called me since that day? Is anything on this record real?”

“You was born in 1895.” John paused. “I think. Abi, was it late ’94 or early ’95?” 

“’95. ‘Member? Cause we made him after that Independence day party out near Fort Laramie.”

“Mama! We are in a church!” 

“Oh, trust me, darlin’, God already knows what happened there. Sent us you, after all.”

Abigail suppressed a laugh as Jack blushed beet red and made his way back towards the door. Smiling at her son’s name in the baptism book one more time, she turned to John. 

“Ain’t you glad your name’s in the book now? Hosea was right, weren’t he?”

John glanced down at the book and smiled. 

“Yeah, guess he was.”


End file.
